


A Warm Seat

by AllTheBellsInVenice



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 100 follower ficlets, Dom!Sherlock, F/M, Gentle Dom, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Spanking, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheBellsInVenice/pseuds/AllTheBellsInVenice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a horrible workday, Molly finds that Sherlock's unorthodox suggestion for stress relief is just what she needs. Prompt fill for rottenbrainstuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Seat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rottenbrainstuff](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rottenbrainstuff).



_rottenbrainstuff said: Oh god yes prompts, this is gonna be awwwwesome... Ahem, Molly getting spanked in the morgue? S'il vous plait?_

****

Was it late at night, or early in the morning? Molly couldn’t tell. She squinted at her laptop and rubbed her burning eyes. Just one moment more for Mrs Jacobson, and she would finally be finished with this hideous, heartbreaking, horrible day.

A bang from the office door behind her; Molly raised her head, her heartbeat quickening. She knew who it must be.

Sure enough, that dangerous-looking Sherlock Holmes was sauntering into the room. He tossed his coat over the back of her chair without so much as a by-your-leave, and Molly scowled.

“Bad day?” he asked in that frankly unfair baritone of his.

“Oh, how could you tell?” Molly snapped, hunching once more over the laptop screen. She was fed up to her eyes with St. Barts, Scotland Yard, and all her colleagues, and she’d be damned if she would stay any longer to help this amateur detective with whatever daft experiment he had in mind…no matter how lovely he was.

“You didn’t answer any of my texts,” he said mildly. “You’re usually so prompt.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the desk beside her, a little too close. “Why don’t you look at them now?”

She almost told him to get out of her face and go to hell, but just pursed her lips and reached down for her handbag. When she swiped open her phone screen and scrolled, however, her eyes grew wide.

_Molly. Sorry for what I said about your jumper. Forgive me? I’m going to take you to lunch today, properly. Be at Angelo’s at noon sharp._

_Did you get my last? No matter, Angelo does dinner as well. 6 o’clock._

_Molly. You’re being wilful. Or your phone has dropped inside that cavernous Mr Holbert from yesterday. Favor the latter. In any case: dessert. 9 o’clock. The cake shop on the corner. This tension has gone on long enough and I’m set on making up for lost time._

_Molly, are you well? Is everything all right? Shall I bring John’s revolver?_

_Right, I’m coming over there. Never fear, your Sherlock is on the case._

Molly looked up at Sherlock, her eyes incredulous. “My Sherlock? What’s this, then?”

“Yes, your Sherlock. If you want me, of course.” He lounged against the file drawer, supremely confident.

“Why, I…” Molly shook herself. “Of course I…but…” She stopped, reddening.

“You’ve clearly had a terrible day, and you need a little stress relief,” Sherlock told her. He examined the fingers of his right hand languidly. “How about a spanking?”

Molly goggled. Had she heard correctly?

“Yes, Molly,” he continued, looking at her. “A nice spanking. It’s wonderfully relaxing. Here, let me show you.” He sauntered over to the little sofa in her office. He sat down in the middle and patted his lap invitingly.

Excitement became a hot little bubble in her heart, then came to a simmer, and then, as Sherlock slowly unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled them up his arms, a full boil. To be spanked by Sherlock Holmes…

“Come now, Molly,” Sherlock said, his voice even more commanding than usual. “Lie over my lap.”

In a daze, hardly knowing what she was doing, Molly obeyed, clambering over the couch until she was arranged over his lean legs. Then his fingertips were stroking her scalp, and any remaining questions simply dropped away.

“There, my sweet girl,” he said, soothing her poor head as his other hand came to rest lightly on her thigh, gathering up the fabric there. “Just relax. Sherlock will take care of you.” He pulled up her skirt, then took hold of her knickers.

“Lift a bit for me, Molly. There now,” he said, his hand on her bare bottom, and Molly could scarcely breathe.

“I’m going to start your spanking, Molly. And I just want you to forget everything else, let it all fall away…and just concentrate on how it feels.”

He brought his hand sharply down, and sensation spiked through her. Molly whimpered, and Sherlock gave a chuckle and spanked her again. And again. And again…

A warm sting bloomed anew with each swat, sweeping everything before it. All the worries of the day, the nasty surprises, her irritation…all that seemed distant now. Molly’s world narrowed down and down, until all that existed was her body, grown soft and warm and pliant, and Sherlock’s hand giving her bottom sharp, steady slaps, his other hand still massaging her scalp.

He paused in his spanking, and Molly moaned a little, pushing upward. Just a little more…

Her eyes fluttered open. Just a little more to…what? How had she not noticed how incredibly aroused she had become under his hand?

“May I touch your pussy?” Sherlock’s voice drifted down from somewhere above her.

Molly’s eyes slid closed again, and she bounced just a little on the firm warmth of his thighs. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

Gently, sweetly, his fingers—-so hot from her spanking—-stroked her, opened her, applied delicate pressure. “Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” Molly murmured. “More.” And Molly relaxed into the delicious warmth of her arousal, the flush of blood in her face, the sensation of those fingertips licking at her clitoris. When Molly came, it was soft and gentle, a flurry of little pulses that left her sighing. His hand was touching her cheek.

“There now, Molly,” Sherlock said, his voice low and even. “How do you feel?”

“Lovely, Sherlock,” she said, turning over; he lifted her in his arms and sat her down on his lap. “Thank you.” Her limbs felt heavy with relaxation; she twined her arms around his neck.

“It was my pleasure, Molly.” The corner of his mouth crooked up, and Molly dropped her eyes shyly as she became aware of the firm lump under her still-warm bottom.

“Now, my sweet girl,” Sherlock said, leaning back against the couch and cradling her tenderly, “what do you say to lunch tomorrow?”


End file.
